No clue yet
by The Ultimate Reviewer
Summary: Just another PD fic, nothing that special. Yet. Please r&r. Or my pet iguna will eat your socks.
1. Default Chapter

There are simply not enough Princess Diaries fics out there, so I decided to give it a shot and write my own. If you notice any stuff ups or have any questions, just tell me. And if you think I should write something in or you have a plot idea, just ask me about it. I'm not sure where this is set, the Australian books are slightly different to the other ones (I think. Well, we've got 4 books and you guys only have 3, so there has to be something going on.) I'm probably going to take parts from both the books and the movie.  
  
At the moment, Mia has never gone out with Kenny or got letters from him or anything. And really I don't know what's going on, I'm just making it up as I go. Actually, pretty much nothing that's happened in the books is happening here.  
  
Plus I'm an Aussie, we have different seasons and stuff, so I'm just stuffing the dates and having days instead, ok?  
  
~~~****~~~  
  
Friday, 7pm, The Loft.  
  
You know, for once I though I was doing okay. In fact, I thought I was doing great. Sure, I didn't have the un-dying love of Michael Moscovitz, but I actually had developed some kind of a chest, I'd stopped growing, and I had the whole Princess thing down pat. I only had to go to Princess Lessons every second day, I was doing so brilliantly. And then a stupid little thing like this has to happen.  
  
I should be told about these things. I really should. But no, everybody somehow thinks it isn't important for me not to know. How can it not be important? This is going to affect the rest of my life as I know it! I mean, I had just got used to the big guy following me around. He was nice really. And now who will Wahim talk to? I can't believe he's doing this to me. How the hell could Lars RETIRE?  
  
I am not even kidding. He is retiring. And not only is he leaving me, he's leaving me with a new bodyguard. Well guess what Lars, I don't want a new bodyguard. If you were going to leave, couldn't you just leave me all alone? No ones going to try to kidnap me okay? I wear combat boots. No one messes with a girl in combat boots. Can't I just learn karate or something? Hey, now there's an idea.  
  
10 minuets later.  
  
Well, I suggest the karate thing to Dad, and he snorted. Then I asked Mom, and she started laughing. Why?  
  
"Because I've seen you playing sport Mia, you could never pull off karate."  
  
Gee, thanks Mom. I can just feel my confidence busting through the roof. See, this is why I've never achieved self-actualization. Well, this and Lana Weinberg. Guess what she did to me today?  
  
I was walking over to my locker, totally innocent and she said in her snottiest voice EVER, and that is pretty snotty.  
  
"You may be a Princess, Amelia, but your still a freak."  
  
Well, duh Lana. I am aware that even though my hair is actually long enough to tie back, therefore hiding it's triangular-ness, I am still a freak. But I didn't need her pointing it out to me. What have I ever done to her? Okay, so I've done a few things. But that's nothing compared to what she does to me! Lucky Fat Louie, he doesn't have to deal with girls like Lana. All he has to do is eat and sleep. Now that would be a great life.  
  
Friday, 8:30pm, the Loft still  
  
I just realized, its Friday night and I'm home. How much of a loser can you get? So I'm going online to see what Lily's up to. Only Lily's not online, Michael is.  
  
CracKing: Hey Mia, are you coming over tonight?  
  
I'd like to think he's asking that because he wants to see me, but he's really just used to me being over there every Friday night. Sigh.  
  
FtLouie: I don't know. Where's Lily?  
  
CracKing: She's editing for her show. She says that she needs some help, and to come over.  
  
FtLouie: OK, I'll be right over.  
  
Well, that's solved one problem. Now I won't be alone tonight. And Lily will tell me what to do about Lars leaving. And I'll get to see Michael. Hee hee. 


	2. 2

Friday, 9pm, The Moscovitze's  
  
You know what I hate? How in the movies the heroine is always so pretty. I mean, come off it. No one can be talented, smart and kick some bad guy ass while looking that gorgeous. It's just stupid!  
  
I'm writing all this while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so I guess that explains my anger. I mean, I do love Buffy. But would it hurt her to have a bad hair day once in a while? I guess the whole reason I'm so hostile right now is because even though Michael is sitting next to me, (by choice, not because there was no room on the other couch. Actually, we're not even on the couch, we're on the floor. So he definitely wanted to sit next to me, because who would chose the floor over the couch unless it was for the company?) he is staring at Buffy with such longing in his eyes that I am amazed that he is not drooling all over the floor like Pavlov is.  
  
Now why can't he look at me like that? I mean without the whole drooling thing. What I wouldn't give to have Michael look at me like that! Well, I wouldn't give Fat Louie, but that's about it. I seriously like Michael more than I like Lily, more than I like my Brittany Spears CD, more than I like my parents!  
  
Is that wrong? I should love my parents more than anything right? I do feel kinda guilty. but hey, how can I love them when most of the time they just stuff my life up? Lets re-cap here.  
  
My mother is pregnant with my algebra teacher's baby. Said algebra teacher lives in the loft with us and I frequently see him in his pajamas, which is a mentally scarring experience. My father is the crown prince of Genovia, and I have only recently found out that I am the sole heir to the throne of Genovia, a little fact that they neglected to tell me for the past 14 years. Gee, thanks for springing that one on me now Dad. Like I don't have enough to deal with, being a fifteen year old tall freak. Oh, and my father is hiring some new body guard that will probably be following me around for the rest of my life, but he won't even tell me who is.  
  
See? It's really not my fault I love Michael more then my parents. And how can I resist Michael? He's got these gorgeous dark brown eyes and that fantastic hair and. Oh crap he just caught me staring at him.  
  
More later, if I don't start dying of embarrassment.  
  
~~~***~~~  
  
Please, for the love of Rooney, Review!  
  
And if you don't review, you are one dead chicken wing. 


End file.
